


Daybreak

by silveryink



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gaang (Avatar), Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e18-21 Sozin's Comet, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, because i think i've found my calling in it, is there such a thing as emotional whump, it doesn't focus on her much tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: The final Agni Kai, and the immediate aftermath.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 928





	Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> I binged this show a few weeks ago and I've been obsessed ever since - seriously, I could use it as a perfect model of tropes and just good writing in general, it's a genius piece of art
> 
> I felt particularly bad for Azula - Ozai's parenting messed her up as much as it did Zuko, but it blew up rather awfully for her in the end. The final duel between the siblings was the perfect visual way to convey it, and I wanted to write a piece from Zuko's perspective about that bit and what followed right after.
> 
> TW for mentions of child abuse (none of it is graphic though)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

He knows he’s won the minute Azula directs her lightning at Katara.

Even as Zuko lunges for the mammoth blast, interrupting his own preparations to redirect it, he knows the Agni Kai is forfeit.

He’s still working on instinct as he starts the motions again, reaching for the nearest tendril of flickering light mid-cry and pulling it to himself. It’s a mistake – he isn’t prepared enough to direct it past his heart, and it stays within him for far too long as inertia carries him further aside. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it _burns_.

Absently, he wonders what it would mean to the Fire Sages, if Azula’s right is forfeit and he dies. Would they still go ahead and crown her?

He hits the ground hard and his hand flings out to the side, expelling the lightning automatically even as he groans at the impact. It hasn’t completely left him, something that becomes apparent when the aftershock sparks around him and leaves him shuddering from the agony. Katara screams, but he barely hears it over the ringing in his ears. It isn’t the searing precision of fire he feels like when his father burned his eye, rather a blanket of pain tossed over and around him – one that he can’t shake off. Zuko groans and rolls over slowly, every inch of him screaming in protest, and raises a shaking hand to – what? His vision is so blurred he can hardly see without immense effort, and right now he’s in more danger of burning himself if he tries to firebend than being of use in the fight.

He drops his hand with an exhale that’s less a sigh and more a stifled cry as another wave of pain pulses over him. He vaguely hears Azula taunting him, but he curls himself up as much as he can in the position he’s in and shivers as he waits out the rolling agony passing over his body. He’s careful to not let his breathing hitch any more than it already is – and that focus ultimately grounds him enough that he can sort of see Katara and his sister locked in deadly combat.

It’s no longer a duel, of course. There are rules to an Agni Kai, rules Zuko knows from already fighting in two, and by going after a non-participant, Azula has already lost, even though the fight isn’t technically over yet. Some part of his mind not intent on steadying his breaths notices that Azula’s bending is… _off_. She had always outmatched him, even when they were kids, but lying on the ground, completely defenceless, he suddenly has enough time to think. He’d brushed it away when he and Katara had arrived at the palace, but now he considers how disheveled she looks.

Her stance was – _is_ – sloppy, especially for her, had been since the duel had started – Zuko knows his sister, even if she’s twisted and _wrong_ now, and she has always taken care to calculate her moves before committing to them. Ruthless as she is, it’s odd for her to be this careless with her bending. It hits him like the lightning blast that something must have happened before the coronation to upset her this badly, so much that her movements are _desperate_ now. She must know she’s lost – and Zuko realises with a sinking feeling that he means it both literally and metaphorically.

Some part of Azula is lost, perhaps for good.

Zuko almost welcomes the next wave of aftershocks, because it distracts him from having to deal with exactly what he’s put together. When he opens his eyes again, into thin slits, he sees that Katara has them both trapped in a large block of ice. He blinks a few times, and his vision clears enough that he can see her slowly wrapping chains around Azula’s wrists and weaving them into the grating of the canals outlining the courtyard. She lifts her hands and pushes down forcefully, bringing the now unfrozen water down with her. The two girls gasp for breath, and Zuko’s vision whites out once more.

The next thing he can feel is a pair of hands gently lifting him and turning him over so that he’s lying on his back, and the wave of pain returns, now doubling in strength. He groans, but feels a blissfully cool hand on his chest, right over the burn, and sighs with relief as the sensation chases away the awful burning in his veins. He blinks a few times as his eyes focus on a blue-clad figure looking worriedly back at him, and smiles.

“Thank you, Katara,” he rasps. It’s all he can manage.

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Her voice is small, but she manages a smile through tears.

He shifts carefully, meaning to sit up, and Katara’s hand is ready at his back, pushing him upright and supporting him until he’s on his feet. His sister screams and lets out a jet of blue flame, one that cannot possibly harm them now – somehow, Zuko knows this, despite her powerful blows during the Agni Kai – and _wails_. Katara’s hand on his back curls into a fist, gripping the soft material of his tunic tightly, but even as his heart breaks, all he can do is watch as Azula dissolves into defeated sobs.

They’ve won, but at what cost?

* * *

Zuko doesn’t get to see the others until he’s visited the palace infirmary. He absently mumbles out directions to Katara when she succeeds in bullying him into the choice. They’re trudging through the palace to his chambers – which are far more comfortable than the infirmary beds – and she carefully assists him into a seated position as he rides out another pain flare.

The waterbender might not be, well, _Azula_ , but there’s something to be said about younger sisters being infinitely more powerful than their older brothers that comforts him in its universality. It definitely helps that he’s started to see her and Sokka as family, though he can’t fathom when exactly that happened.

The warrior in question hobbles up into his chambers with a broken leg, supported by Toph and Suki who look mostly unhurt save a few scratches and bruises. Aang flies in through the window as though he’d expected them to be there all along. Zuko has to admit, the chances of any of them being injured were rather high, considering the danger each of their quests had posed. Zuko doesn’t see his uncle here, but he expected as much. He was all the way in Ba Sing Se, probably still finishing up reclaiming the Earth Kingdom capital from Fire Nation soldiers.

So Zuko does the next best thing and pulls Aang into a somewhat loose embrace, mindful of his injury. He knows he should be more preoccupied with his friend’s condition, but all he can ask is what happened to Ozai.

“He’s alive,” Aang starts, and continues hastily when Zuko goes rigid. “I took his bending away, though. You said he devoted most of his time to working on that, so he’s mostly harmless. And last I saw Iroh, he was okay.”

It takes a minute for him to process this information. Aang stands patiently before him as Zuko deliberately, carefully focuses on his breathing till the lightheaded sensation fades. Ozai can’t hurt him anymore, he thinks, and with that revelation, another one strikes.

_Uncle’s okay. He’ll be here as soon as the fighting’s over and the troops are recalled._

The relief must show on his face, because Aang beams and draws him into a second, tighter embrace, and Zuko can ignore the stinging ache over his scar when Aang brushes against it by accident. Over Aang’s shoulder, Sokka catches his gaze. He grimaces when Katara shifts his leg but grins at Zuko, who can only beam in reply.

“So what happened to you guys?” Sokka asks Katara, and the waterbender meets his eyes. It’s a silent question, and Zuko grants her permission to relate exactly how the Agni Kai unfolded with a single nod. He doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.

And so she does.

The thought of Azula pulls Zuko back into a melancholy. He knows exactly who and _what_ his sister is, knew that he would have had to stop her one way or another, but he hates seeing her in pain. Deranged and dangerous as she is – or was, she’s only _fourteen_. He gasps and Aang pulls away sharply, eyes widening when they find the star-shaped mark on his chest and Zuko absently feels himself being pushed back onto the bed even as dark splotches appear in his vision, which flickers in and out of focus.

Aang climbs onto the mattress next to him and calmly instructs him to breathe. It’s another flare of pain, Zuko knows, and _not_ a post-battle reaction like the one he’d had in the North. The breathing _does_ help, and the wave subsides faster now, leaving the general soreness he’s come to expect.

“We match now,” Aang says quietly, motioning vaguely to his own back, and Zuko chuckles.

“Yeah.”

Sokka grunts as Katara finishes healing his leg and tests it with a wince. She’s rattling off instructions to him, like _keep your weight off the leg_ and _use the crutch if you have to but try not to walk around for a few days_ but the warrior makes his way over to Zuko’s other side and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” he murmurs, and Zuko closes his eyes. He leans into the contact slightly, but doesn’t react otherwise – he’s confused about what he should think of Azula now, and this new development doesn’t help him at all. Does it make him a bad brother to be _relieved_ that he doesn’t have to worry about how to deal with her immediately? Does his concern for her well-being make him a bad ruler? Surely she would have no mercy if she took the throne, but Zuko can’t tell what he’s supposed to prioritise.

Sokka makes the decision for him by wrapping his arm around both of Zuko’s shoulders in a side hug and rubbing up and down gently. He isn’t used to this type of contact, even after all the weeks of falling asleep and waking up to the others piled up on and around him, but it helps him relax like it always did in the camps. The exhaustion he’s been carrying all this while hits him at last, and he leans into his friend’s side, letting his eyes drift shut.

There’s an elbow poking into his side, and he takes Toph’s presence as an official declaration that this is now a cuddle pile and shifts till his back is against the headboard. Suki and Katara join in, while Sokka and Aang make themselves comfortable from where they’re already seated. Toph, as always, clambers half onto him, carefully avoiding his wound even though she can’t see where it is.

“Your heartbeat’s all messed up,” she murmurs, once she’s curled into his natural firebender’s warmth with one ear flat against his chest. “You should get a healer to look at that. An actual physician in the palace, not Sweetness over here.”

“Later,” he promises, ignoring Katara’s indignant “ _Hey!”_ , and settles into the soft mattress against his friends.

In the safety of their holds, he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

A week later, Zuko is anxiously pacing his chambers. His friends opted to stick to their own tradition of piling up together with Zuko as their unanimously declared heat pack instead of sleeping in their own offered suites. He can’t say that he minds, but he kicked them out that morning so that he could prepare for the arrival of the last troops from Ba Sing Se. He isn’t sure why he’s nervous. Perhaps it’s a habit he’s slipped into, after being declared Fire Lord unofficially. Well. Technically he’s gone through all the official proceedings that legalizes him as the sole ruler of the Fire Nation, but he doesn’t actually wear the crown till the coronation tomorrow.

He _does_ wear Roku’s old one, though, even though he hasn’t been crown prince in months. It’s the symbolism that counts – he can’t go into a meeting or make a public appearance without a crown, but he doesn’t get the actual thing till tomorrow at noon and is _very much needed_ before that. Fire Sage Shyu and he found this to be an acceptable compromise.

There’s a knock at the door, and Suki peeks in. “It’s time.”

He nods and strides out into the corridors, effortlessly mapping his way through the palace. It’s a familiar route, but it feels smaller than it used to. It’s felt this way all week, and he supposes it’s because of how _he’s_ changed than anything else. Ty Lee did mention that the aura of the place was dark and malevolent, though it seemed to be clearing now. He brushes the thought away. He doesn’t fully grasp her concept of auras, and now _places_ have them too?

He pauses at the main gate, and the rest of his friends gather behind him at a comfortable and reassuring distance. Suki rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment before dropping it. She’s on duty as his guard right now, an arrangement that came into place after an incident a few days ago that spooked them all. Thankfully, things hadn’t escalated as it had mostly been an accident, but they’ve been more careful ever since.

He knows that a few more Kyoshi warriors are standing at the other side of the doors, of course. They never try to hide their presence from him, which he appreciates as much as the way they give him the space and privacy he needs when he asks for it. He doesn’t know what he’d do without his friends.

He pushes the gates open to an eruption of cheers. There’s a warship from Ozai’s destroyed fleet – the sole remaining one – and soldiers are pouring out of it, running up to their waiting families or helping the wounded out. Zuko grips the railing of the pavilion tightly, leaning forward enough so that he can search the crowd for his uncle. He doesn’t see Iroh among the red-clad citizens reuniting with their loved ones and tries not to let his heart sink.

And yet. His uncle hadn’t sent him a message in the last week, which has kept Zuko on edge all this time. He doesn’t know if Iroh survived, of if he’s wounded, or-

“Zuko, look!” Aang jumps up and down next to him, tugging on the sleeve of his robe and pointing in the direction of the crowd. Zuko follows the angle and his heart almost stops.

Of _course_ Uncle wasn’t a part of the crowd – he would have come with the White Lotus in their blue-and-white garb, not Fire Nation red. His uncle catches his eye and waves, and any restraint Zuko had till now vanishes entirely. He turns on his heel and sprints out of the pavilion, racing down corridors with no heed to any confused onlookers. There’s only one thought in his mind, and it’s that he absolutely _needs_ to see his uncle now. He hears shouts behind him and thinks that he’s really done it this time. Katara’s going to chew him out for this and Suki’s bound to lecture him about his recklessness afterwards, but he doesn’t care.

He pushes his way past the crowd that’s already parting for him, frantic and uncaring of making a good impression on his people. His uncle is doing the same on the other side, albeit with more dignity than Zuko can muster at the moment. At any rate, the people will be reminded of his youth with this display, and that’s not entirely a bad thing.

Iroh’s standing off to the side, and there’s a break in the crowd that gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to run into his uncle’s arms like he’s twelve again. The older man grunts upon impact, but his hands come around Zuko’s frame immediately and without hesitation. Zuko knows this embrace well – it feels the same as it did since he was shorter than his uncle.

“I’m glad you’re back, Uncle,” Zuko says, vaguely aware that he’s shaking and probably going to cry, and his voice is muffled from the way he’s tucked his head into the incline of his uncle’s neck and shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, nephew,” Iroh whispers, pulling him closer into the hug. For once, Zuko doesn’t protest, because the scent of tea clinging to his uncle’s robes and the firm hold he’s locked in assure him that he’s in the best hands he could possibly be in.

Things are going to be just fine.


End file.
